China
by de-anon
Summary: Mini-fic.  Snippets of young China's life.  Short chapters.
1. Child in the rice paddy

**Hey guys! My first fanfiction. Will prove to be rather short and in the form of little snippets if you will. When school slows down a little I'll probably be writing more lengthy and indepth fanfictions from a few ideas I've had. Okay, so chibi china time. (:**

**Also, the storyline picks up a bit after this cutesy chapter, though I'm estimating that this story will be less than 5000 words long. I just don't have much time other than to post in tiny snippets. Comes with the territory of being a science major, all this business. Anyhow, please enjoy?**

**...**

China wasn't sure when or how he came to be, only that it was sometime after the Qin Dynasty was established, unifying the warring states at last.

Wang Ri found the child sloshing around in his rice fields one day, a sloppy grin pushing past chubby cheeks into golden eyes and chestnut hair a lively melody past his shoulders, bouncing in time with the song he sang. The water came up to his waist and he held a bamboo stick high above his head like the tiny trooper he was, even if the red robes blooming around him made him appear more like a flower.

Wang Ri found it only natural to fall in pace beside the kid; every one step of his took the child three, but the kid happily waded faster to keep up. It wasn't until the water reached Wang Ri's knees and the kid was practically swimming that Wang Ri found it fit to scoop him up into his arms.

"What is your name?"

The child cocked his head at the man, staring pensively into his eyes. "Name?"

"How you identify yourself. I'm Wang Ri."

"Identify" He blinked and pursed his lips in concentration. He'd never thought of who he was, just that one day he found himself wandering around the hills in this vast land. He identified with pandas trundling through vast bamboo thickets and the water lapping up against muddy banks in rice fields. He was the vast skies and the wind caressing every roll and dip in the land, the raucous call of birds and the hum of the workers in the fields. A smile broke out over his lips and laughter bubbled forth. "China! China! China!"

"W-what?"

"China!" The child insisted, pointing to first himself then to the land around. "China! China!" He tugged on Wang Ri's beard, positively beaming up at him.

"T…that's hardly a name, kid." He set the child down on the bank and headed toward the simple thatched house nearby. China kept up with a scampering walk then darted ahead, disrupting the chickens pecking about in wild chase but falling onto his butt when the door swung open and Wang Ri's wife stepped out to investigate, worn robes stretched tight over unborn child.

Wang Ri and his wife talked quietly a while, occasionally pausing to glance over at the tiny child who was more than happy to just sit and play in the dirt, building up tiny walls and making mudpies. He only caught snippets of their conversation, but none of it made any sense to him.

"—found him in the rice fields. Don't think he has any parents-"

"—But what of our own kids?-"

"—Will be fine. They'll like him."

"—but money? What with taxes and—"

"It'll all work out." Wang Ri flashed her his typical crooked smile and embraced her lightly. "Besides, we can't leave him to fend for himself."

A child, appearing to be just a few years older than China, stumbled out the doorway and tugged on his mother's sleeve. She rested a hand on his head and brought a sweeping arm toward China. "Say hi to your new little brother—" She shot Wang Ri a questioning look.

"Yao. Wang Yao." The man decides. After all, China was not a real name, only a place.

The boy wandered toward the smaller child, who looked up expectantly at the commotion, and gathered him into a hug. "Little brother! I'm called Fa."


	2. The First of Many

**Sorry for the slow update. I've been really busy lately. Here's another little snippet for you though. And yes, I know I butchered Chinese in this as well as history. And yes, I will go back and proofread this later when it's not 4 in the morning.**

It was easy for China to fall into the family dynamic—the same old routine of waking his two younger brothers, feeding the chickens, carrying water from the river, roaming the hills around the house.

All of it made his heart burst with joy in a way that even his close connection with the land around him could not. He was Wang Yao. He had a big brother, two little brothers, a mom and a dad. He was a part of something. He had a family. Maybe that was all there was to life.

No, something in him tugged at him. He yearned for the bamboo forest just beyond the rice fields he hadn't crossed since he was adopted as well as forests and rivers never explored. It was as if the land needed him—demanded him, pulled him toward a greater purpose that he blatantly ignored.

But his family could not ignore how in the next fifteen years he remained the same while his two younger siblings shot up taller than he, and his oldest sibling was becoming a man.

"It's downright unnatural." Wang Fa often grumbled to himself as he harvested rice with his father, grabbing at the grain-loaded stalks and slicing through with a crude scythe in rhythm with Wang Ri. They worked hunched over, sweating in the heat of the Chinese sun and not communicating with much more than grunts until Fa's complaints became too much to bear.

Wang Ri, who refused to cut his lengthening and rapidly graying beard, merely shook his head and wiped beading sweat from his brow, shoving his posture straight with a hand to his lower back. He exhaled deeply, puffing out hair and sloshing toward a bank to sit down. "Wang Fa." Another sigh. "I wish you'd cease. You'd get more work done if you were silent."

Fa balled his fist around another clump of rice and swung his scythe a little too hard and almost throwing himself off balance and splashing into the marsh. "He looks five and he's looked five since the day you've found him. My _real_ brothers and I have all grown to surpass you in height. There's something sinister about that thing you've adopted."

"Little Yao?" Ri allowed himself a rare smile at the thought of the jovial child, bright eyes always shining and little hands so deft and eager to help around the house. "There's something pure about him. Pure as the child he is. Perhaps you should learn both a lesson in avoiding resentment and honouring your father as well as your family."

Fa didn't dare to do much other than bite back a steady stream of curses and turn so his father didn't see the flash of anger in his eyes. He took it out on the rice, wrenching and twisting and slicing like the snake of hatred that writhed inside of him. He gripped the handle even tighter, knuckles turning white at the nerve grating squeal and thump of impact as little Yao took a running leap at Wang Ri.

"Bà ba!" Yao burrowed his head into Ri's chest, wrapping arms tightly around him and returning his father's delighted smile. He babbled on in Chinese, wriggling free from Ri's grasp and running back to collect the basket he'd lugged with him. "Me and Māma made you dumplings." His red robes were stained with signs of the preparation. He brought one up to Ri's lips and didn't stop with his stern glare until the man ate it. The child tried to call Fa over, but his elder brother ignored him and moved further out to cut more rice, glare more likely to wither the plants than the humid heat.

Yao lavished his attention on Ri instead, plopping down beside him and resting his head against his shoulder. The older man pulled him back on his lap despite his squirming and started running his fingers through Yao's silky long hair until he'd gathered most of it into the back. He fastened it in place with a course strip of fabric.

Continuing with a stream of steady, childish Chinese, Yao watched fireflies skim the stagnant water, occasionally dipping down and shooting up with a rhythm born of the lazy hum of the afternoon. He reached down to dip and swirl his own hand into the water, bangs escaping the confines of the ponytail and falling into his eyes.

Until he saw Liu Bang reflected in the water.

Terrified, Yao staggered back, a scream frozen on his lips. Ragtag soldiers in leather breastplates, screaming horses with rolling eyes, flames erupting in buildings and flashing across the waters of the Wei River all flashed before his eyes. Pain surged through his tiny body, grabbing him by the shoulders and shaking and pounding him mercilessly into the ground until he twitched and screamed and foamed at the mouth with eyes screwed tightly shut.

His capital was being overrun, destroyed and his emperor would die soon at the hands of Liu Bang's band of rebels.

He woke some time later, lashed down to a mat that served as his bed, a wet cloth slipping from his warm forehead. He struggled against the bindings some, a whimper escaping his parched lips and hair plastered to his neck and face. He felt as if every inch of him was on fire, but by then it had deadened into a numbing roar, throbbing at his temples and where he'd thrashed against the hold of first Wang Ri then the ropes. All he could do was moan into the night, hoping someone would hear him.

It wouldn't be the last revolt in his lifetime.


End file.
